


Starting Over

by Raine_Wynd



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Sentinel fanfic! Jim runs into Blair unexpectedly, and what happens next is just the beginning. (Yes, if you squint, it's a crossover.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting Over

**Author's Note:**

> A decade of successfully ignoring Sentinel plot bunnies went out the window, thanks to seeing [zeneyepirate](http://zeneyepirate.com/)'s "Jive Talkin'" at [**bitchinparty**](http://community.livejournal.com/bitchinparty/). Not beta'd.

"Jim!"

A voice I hadn't heard in far too many years cut through the din of the crowded hotel lobby. I turned just in time to see Blair, dressed in a black blazer, green button-down shirt, black jeans, and boots, stride towards me, a huge grin on his face.

As if the years of distance hadn't happened, we hugged, and I let myself believe we had a shot at recovering what we'd lost. I needed him, more than ever. "Man, what happened to your hair?" I asked him. I touched the nearly military-acceptable length as we stepped back.

He shrugged. "Didn't fit in. You here for the Security and Police Expo?"

I nodded. "I'm one of the speakers."

"Who roped you into that?" he asked, remembering how much I hated speaking in public.

I grimaced. "Paying back a favor. What are you doing here?"

"Friend of mine is getting married tomorrow; this was the closest hotel to the reception." He paused. "I was just going to get some lunch. Want to join me?"

"Not the hotel restaurant," I said. "They use too much cayenne pepper and it stinks."

He nodded, understanding. "I know a good place two blocks away."

"Been here before?" I asked as we moved through the lobby and out to the street. The hotel was in the heart of downtown Colorado Springs.

"Yeah, I live in Cheyenne now, but I lived at this hotel for a few weeks." He glanced at me, registering my surprise. He smiled as he said, "My apartment caught fire — meth lab, who knew? — and I was dating the hotel manager."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised he'd landed on his feet after something like that. "You and places that blow up," I teased him.

He shook his head and held up his hands. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

"Yeah, yeah," I shot back. I found myself automatically shortening my stride to match his; felt the space within me that had been empty since he'd left fill.

It didn't take us long to get to the place he knew, which turned out to be a deli and sandwich shop located on the first floor of an office tower. As we entered the shop, long habit had me checking the cleanliness of the place.

"We good?" Blair asked as he touched my arm.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and nodded. He didn't comment, clearly remembering this was my normal.

I glanced up at the menu board, which reflected someone's sense of humor in the sandwich titles, and decided on the safe and familiar before placing my order and paying for it. Blair hesitated before ordering a custom sandwich, and it took me a minute before I realized he was doing it again: deliberately choosing not to offend my senses.

"Hey, you don't have to skimp just because of me," I told him.

He looked at me. "You sure? I remember how you were with some of this stuff."

I shrugged. "Like you said once, I had to learn how to function sometime."

For a moment, pain flashed across his face. I hadn't meant to bring up the last angry argument we'd had, but in that moment I remembered it all — the way he'd accused me of crippling him, the way I'd accused him of turning me into someone who needed him all the time. We'd apologized to each other, but the damage been done.

He offered me a half-smile as he paid for his order. "Yeah, well, I'm going to have more than enough garlic and balsamic vinegar later. Rehearsal dinner's at an Italian restaurant."

"Oh, so you're a part of the wedding party?"

Blair nodded as he and I grabbed drinks out of the cooler below the cash register and took seats at a nearby table. "Just an usher. I work with the brother of the groom, and they wanted me to be in the wedding even though I told them they should plan for someone else."

I looked at him. "Why?"

"The work I'm doing sometimes takes me places unexpectedly."

"Are you still working for the Prydian Group?"

He nodded again as our sandwiches were delivered. "We're doing some work for the Air Force, so that's why I'm living in Cheyenne now."

"Still like it?"

He hesitated before answering. "Sometimes. Sometimes I wish I could talk to someone not involved in the project."

That raised an eyebrow. "That serious?" I listened, tuning into the frequency known as Blair. Even with the five years of distance separating us, I'd know that frequency anywhere. He couldn't lie to me, not then, not now, and I knew he wasn't happy with having to lie to me.

"You were a Ranger," Blair said simply.

"And look where that got me," I reminded him.

He shrugged. "It's a living."

With that, I flashed back to the day he'd decided he'd had enough of trying to live past the reputation he'd destroyed. We'd argued, of course; I hadn't understood, then, that half of our argument was more about the way we were something more than friends and something less than lovers. If I'd swung that way, and he'd been less principled, we could have been something. We were the people we were, though, and his leaving had been mostly amicable despite the fact we no longer could live in each other's back pockets. He'd needed to leave, the same way I'd needed him to go, and I'd helped him pack his stuff up and take the job with the Denver-based Prydian Group.

It struck me then that I'd let the distance fall between us. It had been easier to let the emails pile up, let my work serve as the reason I didn't pick up the phone, didn't try to find out how he was doing. I looked at him now and saw scars no cultural research job would have given him. I took a bite of my sandwich, the taste flaring briefly across my tongue, and had to set it down, too well aware it wasn't the ingredients that were causing my senses to go haywire.

Blair watched me with a stillness that belied his apparent calm, and said nothing. I'd forgotten just how he could study me, just how careful he could be after all the hard lessons he'd had to learn as my Guide. His steady stare grounded me like little else would.

"Yeah," I said finally, "but are you happy?"

He let out a smothered chuckle. "Miserable," he admitted. "The things I've seen were incredible, but—" He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then looked directly at me. "Simon told me about Rachel."

"I wondered," I managed with a calm I didn't feel. "You'd have gotten along with her. She was the director of antiquities at the history museum. She had a pretty wicked sense of humor and this amazing compassion. She was beautiful, and I loved her." For a moment, I let myself remember the woman who'd stolen my heart, made me believe in love again. "She didn't quite believe I knew as much as I did about ancient culture." I paused, hating the way remembering her included remembering how some nutjob had decided the best way to commit suicide-by-cop was to kidnap and kill her. I'd been in the ER, getting a dislocated elbow reset, when the whole incident had gone down. That had been six months ago.

"I'm sorry I never met her," Blair said sincerely.

I nodded my thanks and took another bite of my sandwich. It was once again bland and safe and I let myself relax. A small silence fell between us as we ate.

"When is your presentation?" Blair asked.

"Sunday morning," I told him. "I promised Simon I'd attend a few panels tomorrow, but I was considering ditching this afternoon and going somewhere that doesn't smell like stale cigarettes and too much drama. Why? Need a date for the wedding?"

He shook his head, amused I'd made that guess. "No, they know I'm going alone."

I looked surprised. "You? Alone to a party?"

He shrugged, his hands underscoring his words. "No time, man. No time to date. Just wanted to hear you speak if you hadn't already."

"That's all?" I asked, not quite believing.

He smiled and leaned back. "Well, you being here saves me the phone call, since you're horrible at answering emails," he drawled.

"The phone call for what?"

"I quit my job. Emailed my resignation this morning. I have flight back to Cascade on Sunday." He ticked off the list on his hands and smiled guilelessly. "Think you might have some room in your place for an old friend?"

I felt a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, but willed it not to show. "Might," I drawled, mimicking his tone. "Depends."

He met my gaze and I knew, with a sudden click, that all the years in between his leaving and now didn't matter. "I'm not a grad student in search of a thesis," he replied evenly, "I'm not broke, and I have nightmares about things I can't talk about, but —" He took a deep breath, exhaled. "I thought if I learned how to be me without you, I'd be the better man. Turns out I'm just a man, and if I get one more vision about how the Guide needs to be with his Sentinel I'm going to scream."

_So he'd been having those visions, too,_ I thought with a measure of satisfaction. A storm was building over Cascade, and every Sentinel sense I ever had said I needed him to get through it; Rachel's death had been the warning shot. I'd promised myself I'd contact him after the conference was over, but it looked like that wasn't necessary. I couldn't stop the sense of relief that shot through me. All I said was, "You too?"

He nodded. "Look, I know we've got a lot to discuss —"

I waved my hand. "Doesn't have to be now," I told him, meaning it. "I'd like us to be friends again."

His smile could have lit stars. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The End 4.4.08


End file.
